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Updated: May 22, 2025


That fusillade of his will have turned the entire camp out by this time, and the Macs don't want any inconvenient witnesses." "Witnesses?" echoed Adair. "Then you don't know Say, Stuart; there isn't a white man in this camp besides us three unless you count the MacMorroghs and their commissary garrison as white men.

Soon after the Fizzer left us the horse-teams came in, and went on, top-heavy with stores for "inside"; but the "Macs" were now thinking of the dry stages ahead, and were travelling at the exasperating rate of about four miles a day, as they "nursed the bullocks" through the good grass country.

"Too much country to work," said one of the Macs, when after a second helping they were both still "missing." "Covered their tracks all right," said another. The Quiet Stockman "reckoned they were bushed all right." "Going in a circle," the sick Mac suggested, and then a shout went up as the Dandy found the "luck" in his last mouthful.

The horse teams were "just behind," and the Macs almost at the front gate. The Sanguine Scot? Of course he was all right: always was, but reckoned bullock-punching wasn't all it was cracked up to be; thought his troubles were over when he got out of the sandy country, but hadn't reckoned on the black soil flats.

"Just the thing," Dan decided; and we soon saw, with his assistance, a vision of our future mattress walkin' about the run on the ends of cows' tails. "Looks like it's going to be a dead-heat," Johnny said, still hammering, when the Dandy brought in word that the Macs were within twelve miles of the homestead.

Then, mounting his waiting horse, he splashed through the creek again, and disappeared into the moonlit grove of pandanus palms beyond it. The waggons spelled for two days at the Warlochs, and we saw much of the "Macs."

That story of Sir Thomas Sadman dropping a pocket-handkerchief in his court at Colombo, which the Queen's Advocate O'Goggarty picked up, and on which Laura MacS. was embroidered, whilst the Major was absolutely in the witness-box giving evidence against a native servant who had stolen one of his cocked-hats that story always made good Thomas Newcome laugh, and Clive used to enjoy it too, and the widow's mischievous fun in narrating it; and now, behold, one day when Mrs.

"We reached a lovely village, and were warmly welcomed by 'Macs' of every name, reminding one of childhood's summers spent in the Highlands of old Scotia.

The distinction between those Irish who were of Celtic blood, and those Irish who sprang from the followers of Strong-bow and De Burgh, was not altogether effaced. The Fitzes sometimes permitted themselves to speak with scorn of the Os and Macs; and the Os and Macs sometimes repaid that scorn with aversion.

Montgomery who had reigned on Rincon Hill twenty years ago, and a cousin of the Helena Belmont who had been the greatest belle the city had seen since that earlier time when Nina Randolph, Guadalupe Hathaway, Mrs. Hunt McLane, and "The Three Macs" had made history for themselves in spite of the momentous era of which they were so unheeding a part.

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